


Rum Running

by anonymous_sibyl



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-20
Updated: 2007-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:27:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymous_sibyl/pseuds/anonymous_sibyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands. And then the next day you have to do whatever it takes to make your dreams come true.  (Follow up to The Rum Rebellion.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rum Running

**Author's Note:**

> This work is licensed under a [Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License](http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/). None of the media or characters written about in my fanfiction belong to me and I make no profit from these works. 

Oh, god, I want to die isn't even close to how Chloe feels when she wakes up. It's more like she wonders if she died sometime last night, her feet are killing her from passing out in her heels, and her hip aches from where she fell asleep on that rum bottle. It's an empty rum bottle, at least, which makes it fairly useless to her, except, you know, last night. That particular memory sends her blushing to throw it away, bottle dangling from two delicate fingers as she kicks off her heels and disposes of the bottle on her way to the shower.

She's sober this morning so there's no excuse for calling out his name as her showerhead gives her something that no one else ever has. Chloe's a practical girl, though, and she's humming "sisters are doing it for themselves" as she leaves for the Kent Farm. Orgasms are just as good for headaches as the liter of water she downed before getting in the car.

"What is it, Clark," she calls out as she enters the barn. "Another meteor mutant?"

"Just homework," he yells back. "Come on up, Chloe."

So she does, and she tutors, and they laugh, and if she avoids the question when Clark asks why she's giggling while drinking from her water bottle, well there are things even Clark Kent doesn't need to know.

Something-something-Lana is all she hears and that's all she can take today.

"Clark?" She flicks her tongue over the head of the water bottle and looks up at him from under her lashes. "Do you ever get tired of being what everyone wants you to be?"

"What do you mean?"

Of course he doesn't get it, but he is watching her dip her tongue into that bottle and that's something. That's more than she had last night or this morning and it isn't going to be all that she settles for. Not this time.

"I mean," she says, raising her foot in those same impossibly high heels from the night before and placing it on his chair between his legs. "Don't you ever want to do something different? Just be wild?"

"I was wild, Chloe. Remember the red kryptonite? I hurt people."

She taps her toe and grazes his thigh with it. "You won't hurt me."

"I…" he stammers. "Chloe? What's going on here?"

She extends her leg and his chair wheels backward. It would have been nice if she could have sent him flying, but she knows enough to work with what she has. "I'm tired of waiting, Clark. I'm tired of being whatever it is I am to you." She wriggles a bit when she stands, stretches and thrusts, and likes it when he watches. "I want you to see me."

"I see you."

She lowers her eyes to his pants, then smiles. "I guess you do."

"I don't know what you want, Chloe."

"That's okay," she smiles as she lowers herself down onto his lap, straddling his legs. "I do. I'll guide you through it."

"Chloe," he gasps, a little scandalized, the good farm boy that he is, and she likes that.

"Shut up, Clark. Unless you're going to object, just shut the hell up." He presses his lips so tightly together that she wonders if he's going to start bleeding.

She shifts her weight and Clark grabs her by the hips and smiles just a little. He slides his hands down her thighs then up again under her skirt. His eyes widen so much she's afraid he's going to hurt himself if she doesn't let him say whatever he's thinking. "Okay," she decides. "You can talk."

"Are you… wearing panties?"

"No." He blinks and she giggles. "I'm not wearing a bra, either. If you wanted you could use your x-ray vision to find that out. Or," she says, sliding forward and pressing her hands into his chest, "you could just use your hands."

And he does, he uses those strong hands he's developed working on a farm since he was a boy. He grazes her inner thighs with his fingers and she puts her hands behind her, on his knees, and braces herself as she leans back and parts her legs so he can reach everything.

"Clark," she gasps out and realizes how strange that sounds, his name on her lips as he's brushing his thumb over her clit. It seems as if she should have something better to say, something more meaningful, but right now all her feelings are centered on her pussy and his cock and, yeah, that's what she wants to say. "Fuck me, Clark."

This is another one of those things he'll hesitate over so she leans forward again, unzips his jeans, reaches inside until she touches his cock and frees it from his clothes. She's already on top of him and he's already holding her, so it's a simple matter to slide over and down onto him.

"Chloe, Chloe, Chloe," he's repeating and she loves it, loves that she's the only thing on his mind. It's good and it's stupid and it might be dangerous because he's unbelievably strong, but this is her and it's Clark and it's so much better than she imagined it could be.

"Why?" he asks when they're done and she's leaning on his chest while he plays with her hair.

"Because I knew you never would."

"Oh," he says, and kisses her forehead. "Next time I'll do it, okay?"

"Yeah," she says, smiling. "That'd be good."


End file.
